o set in motion the most
complicate and obscure conceptions in her brain, permitting her to
comprehend with equal clarity the Egyptian queen of pleasure and the
austere devotee to whom joy is a snare. From time to time she uttered
little exclamations of pleasure, and at the end of each act motioned him
to proceed, as if eager to get a unified impression.

It was after eleven o'clock when he threw down the manuscript, and,
white with emotion, awaited her verdict. She was tense with the strain,
and her lashes were wet with tears, but her eyes were bright and her
mind alert. She had already entered upon a new part, having been swept
up into a region of resolution as far away from the pleasant hostess as
from the heartless adventuress whose garments she had worn but the night
before. With hands clasped between her knees, and shoulders laxly
drooping, she brooded on the sorrows of his mimic world.

"I will do your play," she said at last. "I will do it because I believe
in its method and because I think it worthy of my highest powers."

The blood rushed to the playwright's throat and a smarting heat dimmed
his eyes. He spoke with difficulty. "I thank you," he said, hoarsely.
"It is more than I expected; and now that you have promised to do it, I
feel you ought not to take the risk." He could say no more, overcome by
the cordial emphasis of her decision.

"There is a risk, I will be frank with you; but your play is worth it. I
have not been so powerfully moved in years. You have thrilled me. Really
I cannot tell you how deeply your theme has sunk into my heart. You have
the Northern conscience--so have I; that is why I rebel at being merely
the plaything of a careless public. Yes, I will do your play. It is a
work of genius. I hope you wrote it in a garret. It's the kind of thing
to come from a diet of black bread and water."

He smiled. "I live in a sort of garret, and my meals are frequently
beans and brown bread. I hope that will do."

"I am glad the bread is at least brown.... But you are tired. Leave the
manuscript with me." He rose and she moved towards him with a gesture
of confidence which made words impossible to him. "When we meet again I
want you to tell me something of yourself.... Good-night. You will hear
from me soon." She was regal as she said this--regal in her own proper
person, and he went away rapt with wonder and admiration of the real
Helen Merival as she now stood revealed to him.

"She is greate